


just promise me we'll be alright.

by thefigureinthecorner



Series: and now you have to deal with the aftermath [1]
Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, am archives spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefigureinthecorner/pseuds/thefigureinthecorner
Summary: Hot chocolate doesn't fix things, but it's a start.Or: Mark and Joan, the morning after Helen.(AM Archives spoilers past episode 15; title from Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford and Sons)
Series: and now you have to deal with the aftermath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551634
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: BrightGreen Fanfics





	just promise me we'll be alright.

When Joan gets home that first morning, she immediately throws away everything she’s been wearing. The blood will never come out and she’s not sure she could stand to wear those clothes again even if it did. Owen was right, she’d loved that sweater, but looking at it now, she could only think of him bleeding out on the floor and trying to reassure her and being more concerned about her  _ getting blood on her clothes _ than about the fact that he was—

She shakes herself and turns the faucet all the way to the red.

She scours her hands in the shower with nearly half a bottle of body wash and water almost too hot to stand until the skin is raw and pink and even after all that she can still feel the blood caked in every little line on her hands and under every fingernail. There was no amount of scrubbing that could remove that sensation from her mind.

The shower does nothing to help the bone-deep exhaustion that weighs down on her, but she at least almost feels like a person again. When she exits the bathroom after nearly half an hour, the apartment smells like chocolate, and she follows the smell to the kitchen to find Mark making hot chocolate. Properly, this time, which is actually surprising given he not only had a terrible night but a terrible day and a long drive before this. But there he is, trying to take care of her, and fuck, she might start crying again.

But she doesn’t do that. She doesn’t have any energy left to. She just feels weird and hollow and numb. So instead, she leans heavily against the doorframe to the kitchen, closing her eyes and letting herself breathe in the comforting smells of hot chocolate and home, and trying to push down the image of Owen making tea in this same kitchen not even six months ago.

“Joanie?”

She’d been starting to doze off where she stood, she realizes when she startles back awake at Mark’s voice. He’s holding out a steaming mug to her, hot chocolate with so many marshmallows piled on top that they make it nearly impossible to see the drink through them as they expand. She forces a small smile as thanks and the worried look on Mark’s face abates just a little. The mug is hot, and it burns a bit as she holds it, but she doesn’t move to hold it in a way that’s more comfortable; the pain is grounding, almost.

That’s not healthy, she knows, but… well. She’ll take it, for now.

She vaguely remembers sitting down at the kitchen table, but somewhere between there and when she wakes up her brain must lose the ability to form any coherent memories because she gasps awake in a cold sweat in her own bed, with absolutely no clue how she got there. She hears someone let out a tiny groan next to her and turns to see Mark sitting on the floor by her bed, head resting on the edge of the mattress. He opens his eyes when she sits up, processing where he is for a couple seconds before the memories seem to come back and he looks concerned.

“Joan? You alright?”

“I’m…” She hesitated before answering. She doesn’t want him to worry, but denying her feelings right now… he’ll probably just worry more. “No. I’m not.”

“I can get you some water, or something?” He stands like he’s about to leave, soft concern on his face, and Joan shakes her head. More than anything, she just wants… comfort. She wants someone to just be  _ there. _

“No, wait, can you just… stay with me?”

Her voice is heavy with tears and small, hesitant, like she hates that she has to ask the question. Mark’s face softens impossibly more.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

He crawls into her bed next to her and she tucks up against his shoulder, tears soaking into the fabric of his t-shirt. They’ve done this before-- years and years ago, when Mark would have nightmares as a little kid. The two of them would set up a pillow fort like a tent, curl up on the floor of Joan’s bedroom together, and pretend they were camping under her glow-in-the-dark stars, like they were real and her floor wasn’t a giant blanket nest but a big grassy field. Joan had always been there for him growing up, taking care of him when nobody else would, and now…

Now it was time for him to return the favor.


End file.
